Shades of Gray
by firestorm557
Summary: Tag to Season 2 Episode Bloodlust. Dean's look at the end of the episode was just too good to leave it just at that. so this is just a little exploration of what exactly Dean was thinking as they drove away........


A/N: alright so this is something that i wrote a week or two ago, but i am just getting around to posting it now. it is a tag for the episode Bloodlust, and ever since i saw it i have had this nagging feeling that it wasn't quite over, especially with that comtimplative look that Dean had at the end. so this is just a really short add on to what Dean was feeling as they drive away. i hope that you all enjoy this little tag. please read, enjoy, and review!!

Disclaimer: i do not own the winchesters, but my dreams are my own...**  
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**Shades of Gray**

It never used to be this way, you know. There never used to be this sense of uncertainty, but now it seems that I just can't shake it. Things used to be black and white for me. If it was supernatural, it was evil. If it was evil, I wasted it. But now……now everything is all messed up. I mean, I just let a group of vamps walk out of here while I held another hunter at gun point. A hunter that I thought that I respected. But it turns out that the vamps were the ones that deserved my respect, and the hunter was the one with the twisted morals. Should I have wasted him? Should I have wasted the vamps? Shit my head is all over the place right now! I don't know what to think. I don't know what to do. I don't know who to trust.

Movement next to me catches my eye. Sam is shifting in his sleep, trying to get comfortable in the passenger seat. Sammy. Sam knew who to trust. They beat him, kidnapped him, blindfolded him, and tied him up in their nest. But he still trusted them. Every instinct that I had said to waste them. But Sam didn't see it that way. So does that make him the ying to my yang? No, it makes him the gray in-between my black and white. Can a hunter really survive like that? Living in shades of gray? I mean, Sammy does it, and he's become a damn fine hunter. But we hunt together, and I'm always right there to watch his back. But what if I'm not there one of these times? What if he is on his own, and uncertainty gets him killed? But then again, Sam's usually not that uncertain about anything. I mean, even if he doesn't know all of the facts, he usually listens to his gut and sticks by that decision.

Another shift, followed by a groan, comes from my right. Sam's brow is wrinkled in pain, I pull over, ready. But the lines smooth away, and he returns to a restful slumber. Not a vision then, he must have just bumped his injured arm with all of his moving.

Gordon. He would have killed all of them, just because of what they were. He would have, and I would have helped him, if it hadn't been for Sam.

Sammy. I can't even imagine what could have happened to Sam if I had told Gordon about Sam's visions, or God help me, that the demon had plans for him. One or two more shots and I might have. What would have happened to him then? Gordon would have ended him, that's what. He wouldn't understand that Sam's visions help to save people. I don't think he would care, even if he did understand. Psychic abilities that the ultimate evil has plans to use? Pretty high up there on the list of evil things that must be eliminated. And I can't even whole-heartedly deny that, not if what dad told me is true. I haven't even been able to look at Sam the same way since, and it's not even his fault. He ahs no idea what's coming. And I think that Sammy is strong enough to beat it, especially if I am by his side. But if others caught wind of this? I don't know what I would do. But Sam is not evil, I do know that. Not now, and if I have anything to say about it, not ever. He may be a colossal pain in the ass, but he's not evil. And I intend to keep him that way.

I look over again at Sam. Jeeze Sammy. Only you could change my entire out look on hunting in one night. How do you do that? You just throw those puppy dog eyes around at people and they just fall at your feet. Pain comes from my knuckles as I grip the wheel harder, and I remember the right hook to the face a couple of hours earlier. I have to remember to have him ice that at the next stop. And apologize, I really should apologize. Another shift, another moan. Alright Sammy, stop your fussing, we'll pull into the next motel for some real sleep. And we'll deal with living our lives in shades of gray tomorrow.

alright, please review, let me know what you think!


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